My Baby (Sun/Moon x Reader)

Choices I Get

Warning for a torture scene ahead and a drawing containing the scene!

-x-

You believe soup is the ultimate thing to eat when sick, so you make that (with the help of a few YouTube videos to aid you). You think it turned out okay, so you put some in a bowl and take it and the medicines with you to the living room, where Moon, stubborn as he is, refusing a blink of sleep. He clenched and unclenched his hands— tightening them into a fist and then loosening.

Sitting the bowl on the table, you turn to the cocooned-in-blankets alien, planting your hands on your hips. "Moon." Said individual only frowned at you, exhausted beyond belief. You sighed and sat on the couch. "C'mon, sit up. You need to eat." You urged lightly, feeling Moon move to lean against the armrest.

You put a hand over their forehead; their fever is still high, their skin sweaty and warm. It felt odd to have Moon's normally cold skin be that hot. Odd and worrisome, tugging on your heart in a way that almost hurt physically.

Finally upright, you guide the bowl in their shaky hands, making sure it is steady before letting go. Moon gives the soup a look, as if daring it to taste something bad, but he still takes a spoonful of it. The taste washed the back of their throat, coaxing their raw mouth into healing. And, as they took a simple taste of the food, Moon became aware of how hungry they were.

Inhaling the food was the first to come to mind, but Moon relented, deciding not to upset his stomach any further than it already is. The soup was good, warm, and soothing.

Finishing off and taking medicine, Moon sits the bowl on the floor with too much energy than it should, sighing gently. Tired eyes glanced back at you, softening their red glare. The white of their eyes expanded, dilating in that fashion that is mesmerizing to watch, taking in your position nearby.

Shifting, Moon but throws himself at your side, cocooning himself in the blankets again. Shivers ran down his frame, chilling him to the bone. His right hand spasmed, urging Moon to clench it— he does with a frown. Their shoulders were heavy, head lulling to the side in exhaustion. The throb of a headache behind their eyes made it hard to close their eyes, opting on staring ahead.

It had only been three days since the hospital visit, and Moon didn't feel like laying in bed like he did there. The absence of their leg had taken a toll, sure, but this was different. This exhaustion was burning the tails of their nerves, rubbing against their lungs and eating at their edges. Fevers weren't unusual— Sun and Moon were prone to get sick more often than not, but that didn't make the ordeal any easier.

Mostly, they'd still work no matter what state they were in. And, even when Mrs. Lawrence tells them to rest, they know she took that to more expectations the next day when they are better.

Right now was new— a foreign exchange. You were here and you were by their side, helping when they felt vulnerable and heavy. It was okay to not be okay, you had said. But this made them feel useless and a burden, something weighing them down despite their acts of wanting to be closer.

"Sorry..." Moon mumbled, lowering his gaze. They were being too much— you had helped and helped and they were only getting sick— a burden over your shoulders, something you didn't have to carry, yet, here you were, doing your best to be gentle.

It was too overwhelming. Even with the urge to lean closer to your touch, their mind still supplied them with fear. Your touch is foreign, even when you have offered it many times— even when they accept it. It was odd, it sent buzzes of energy up their veins, a feeling that always made them feel much better. Still, they couldn't help but feel the touch be too much, yet too little.